family
When the Moon Stopped Moving
The night Amina realized something had changed forever, the moon looked strangely still, as if it was holding its breath with her. She stood by the window of her small apartment, watching the clouds drift over the sky, clutching her phone the way a drowning person holds a piece of wood. She kept telling herself the message wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. Not after the promises, not after the way he held her, not after the way he whispered, “You’re the part of me the world was missing.”
By Salman Writes9 months ago in Fiction
Wolves of Revolution. Content Warning.
“But you see, it’s not me. It’s not my family...” - Zombie, by the Cranberries -0- Grinding against ribs, the knife carried a drowning torrent of blood in its wake. The body of a young man fought against the inevitable. Limbs spasmed, fingers clawed impotently behind him, desperately trying to preserve themselves even as his airflow steadily choked off.
By Alexander McEvoy10 months ago in Fiction
SEASON 8 - Whispers from the Lantern: The Keeper's Lament
Chapter 15 The silence was a palpable thing, a heavy blanket that settled over the entire coast. Aris and his team stood in the now-calm lantern room, a profound sense of exhaustion washing over them. The Keeper was gone. The drowned were gone. The mournful lament was gone.
By Tales That Breathe at Night10 months ago in Fiction
Silent Room. Honorable Mention in The Forgotten Room Challenge.
All at once, the floorboards groaned their last. At first, this came as a relief, the scraping and scuffing of a cacophony of shoes and voices had been unrelenting. Peace, at last. No longer abused by the snotty-fingered child, or the slopping of tea and scrape of chair-legs. No longer marred and stained and used. Bones creaking, walls sighing, skirting boards never wiped. The occupants had been reckless, aging the room with crumbs, crayons and loud garish laughter. They had left dust and grime to congeal in hidden corners. Allowed a thin-armed spider to make a home in another. And the dog. It was perhaps the worst offender. Hair everywhere, nails scratching on oiled-wood, the drool, the dander, the wanton muck brought from outside.
By Rebecca Sunberry10 months ago in Fiction
Forgotten
I sit alone, as I always do. In a corner where everything is seen and I am seen by everything. Fear rushes through me as someone enters the room. I cannot see their face and I tremble at the thought of what they want. Words, sounds, speech, a question... a conversation. I thought I had forgotten how to have a conversation but it seems, as the draftiness in this room persists, so do old habits.
By Silver Holly Hope10 months ago in Fiction
The Forgotten Room
[By mazkaz] 1. The Old House on Willow Street Ayaan had not returned to Willow Street for almost twelve years. Life had carried him far away—toward college, work, and the noise of a busy city—but the silence of his childhood home continued to echo inside him. When his mother passed away, the house became a shadow he didn’t want to face. And now that his father was gone too, the house waited for him like an unanswered letter.
By Muzzakir Khan10 months ago in Fiction
In the room, in the room..
...In the room, in the room, Long-forgotten room Moss and mushrooms make the floor Daisies bloom... I raise a fittingly bitter wine to my lips toasting the past. The bag is waiting by the door and one glance at it makes my fingers tremble. A tiny drop of red wine bends the curve of the glass and forever imprints on my pristinely white shirt - I watch it happen over and over again.
By Salomé Saffiri10 months ago in Fiction
